"Please, have you got a dog, too?" piped up a boy's voice. "An' chickens an' little pigs? They said you had!" interposed a brown-eyed girl from the corner. "An' there's hammocks an' swings, maybe," broke in Tilly; "an' please, ma'am, may n't we go outdoors and begin right away? Two weeks is an awful short time, you know, for all we want to do," she finished earnestly. Four pairs of feet came down to the floor with a thump and eight small boots danced a tattoo of impatience on the parlor carpet--the small girl was already out in the hall and on her knees to the cat. "Why, yes,--that is--you see, there was a mistake; I--" Mrs. Wentworth stopped suddenly, for as soon as the "yes" had left her lips the children had fled like sheep. She stepped to the front door and looked out. A boy was turning somersaults on the grass. Three girls had started a game of tag. Watching all this with eager eyes was a boy of eight, one foot tightly bound into an iron brace. It was on this child that Mrs. Wentworth's eyes lingered the longest. "Poor little fellow! Well, he shall be one of the two," she murmured, as she hurried out to Hannah. "When they going, ma'am?" began Hannah, with an assurance born of long service. "I--I haven't told them; I--well, I waited for Mr. Wentworth," confessed her mistress hastily. Then, with some dignity: "They can just as well have to-day outdoors, anyway." It was nearly noon when Mr. Wentworth drove into the yard, gave his horse into the care of Bill, the man-of-all-work, and hurried into the house. "Mary, Mary--where are you?" he called sharply. Never before had James Wentworth broken the serene calm of his home with a voice like that. "Yes, dear, I 'm here--in the dining-room." Mrs. Wentworth's cheeks were flushed, her hair was disordered, and her neck-bow was untied; but she was smiling happily as she hovered over a large table laden with good things and set for six. "You can sit down with them, James," she exclaimed; "I'm going to help Hannah serve them." "Mary, what in the world does this mean? The yard is overrun with screaming children! Have they sent us the whole asylum?" he demanded. Mrs. Wentworth laughed hysterically. "That's exactly what they have done, dear. They took my 'two' for a 'ten,' and--and they did the best they could to supply my wants!" "Well, but--why don't you send them home? We can't--" "Yes, yes; I know, dear," interrupted the woman hastily, the happy look gone from her eyes. "After dinner I am--that is, you may send all but two home. I thought I 'd let them play awhile." "Humph!" ejaculated the man; "send them home?--I should think so!" he muttered, as his wife went to call the children to dinner. What a wonderful meal that was, and how the good things did vanish down those five hungry throats!